


A Different Bond

by knights-and-musketeers (periken)



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Caring Porthos, Drunk Athos, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Snuggling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:49:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7285972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/periken/pseuds/knights-and-musketeers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drunken Athos is carried home in an unexpected way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Different Bond

**Author's Note:**

  * For [misanthropiclycanthrope](https://archiveofourown.org/users/misanthropiclycanthrope/gifts).



> Hope you like it, my friend! :D

An annoying, constant shaking of Athos' shoulder brings him out from his unconscious state as muffled noisy bouts of conversation and laughter start filtering into his wine-addled mind.

He doesn't move, remaining as still as he had been before being pulled from the dark, showing no signs of his awakening in hopes the person roiling him will go away. To no avail, the disturbance stays perpetual.

Lethargy sweeps through his bent body, covering every inch possible therefore giving him no strength to shoo away the individual. A pounding headache rebounds itself in the interiors of his head, destroying any sense of focus to function properly. The incessant shaking increases the throbbing pain as the pressing of his forehead against a rough, hard surface causes his head to rock side to side. He lets out a small groan, vexed with the adamant hand of the owner to pester him. Once his mind starts to come around, it isn't till now that he registers the bothersome person has been whispering to him by his ear.

"Athos. Wake up," comes a gruff voice. The shaking stops and is instead replaced with gentle taps to his cheek.

"Come on. Don't make me drag you back," the voice presses on, the taps getting harder as he doesn't respond.

Athos wants to stay where he lies as his energy level is well below the amount needed to move anywhere, barely even being able to lift his head yet alone his body. The tapping against his cheek continues and Athos frustratingly turns his head to the side - with great effort - to get a glance of who this irritating torturer is.

His narrow gaze meets upon a large face. He squints with immense concentration to determine the person through their facial features. A large black beard surrounds the lower half of the man's dark-skinned face and short, black, curly hair can be seen from the corner of Athos' vision. 

Porthos.

" 'here we are," he greets him with a large grin. "Time to head home."

Athos tries to protest, but realises none of his words are coming out coherently when a muddled noise leaves his lips instead.

Two hands gently cradle his head and lifts it up, moving his whole body along as well until he is sitting upright against the wall. He groans and his head immediately droops onto Porthos' shoulder as he has no strength to keep it up. Another tap hits his cheek while his brother coaxes him to get up. Athos moans weakly in objection and a sigh comes from Porthos for his uncooperative behaviour in making any attempt to move.

An arm tucks itself underneath the crook of his knees as the other wraps around his chest from the back and suddenly he is hauled up and away from his seat. His stomach shoots up as his body bounces up and down slightly with Porthos' pace.

"P'rr...thh...oo..sss," he drawls before swallowing down hard to prevent the churning contents in his stomach from lurching out.

He can feel eyes staring at them from the way Porthos carries him - in a bridal style manner - across the tavern. Snickers and laughter are heard amongst the revelers who are immensely entertained by the way the drunk patron is being taken away. Some even tease by whistling and shouting words of congratulations, claiming them as a newlywed couple. 

Athos averts his head from Porthos as his face turns flush from the men's words at the implication of marriage between them.

"Pppuu't... meee.. d'wnn," Athos manages once they exit the tavern.

Porthos snorts and holds him tighter before making his way back to the Garrison. "I ain't put'in' you down till we reach your bed."

Athos grumbles at his denied request and tries to squirm his arm out, which is crammed between himself and Porthos' body. Porthos clicks his tongue and tuts at him before re-adjusting his hold on Athos.

"Don't even try to get out. Not gonna 'appen," he states and Athos huffs an angry breath, knowing his brother is right as he barely has the strength to even stay awake anymore.

He acquiesces and lolls his head against Porthos' chest, the quiet humming from the large musketeer slowly lulling him to sleep.

\----------

Warmth radiates through Athos as a body rests against his own. An arm is draped across his bare chest, which confuses him being he remembers wearing his linen shirt earlier. A hand plays with his hair, twirling the messy strands around before smoothing them down and repeating the process again. He turns his head to see who the person is, but doesn't see anyone. Confusion washes through his mind from the missing sight, wondering where else the heat's source could be from. 

It isn't until he feels a slight shift of his body that he realises the warm heat isn't coming from beside him - but underneath him. He cocks his head up to glance at the person he's lying on and is greeted with the grace of Porthos' gentle smile.

"Welcome back," Porthos declares, giving him a kiss on the head.

Athos smiles at the sight of his brother, but his expression soon turns puzzled when he wearily scans his surroundings.

"Where...are we?" 

"In your room. Remember I said I'm not puttin' you down till you're on your bed?" he answers with a tilt of his head. 

Athos raises a brow at him. "Well, I'm on top of you... not on the bed," the lieutenant quips playfully.

A barking laugh bounces around the room as Athos receives another kiss on the head. He laces his fingers with Porthos' and adjusts his head as much as he can to turn and give Porthos a fervent kiss.

The knocking pain in his head is forgotten briefly as a sudden jolt of adrenaline and joy runs through him when their lips lock. He falls into rhythm as he licks at Porthos' lips and his tongue darts in and around Porthos', playing and tasting him. A moan rumbles from the large musketeer's throat and a smile crosses his lips. Porthos makes his movements just as devoted. Delicately licking in all the places he enjoys and a groan escapes his lips.

They part to catch their breath and look at each other endearingly. Both enjoying the sight of their lover.

"I like lying on this bed. It's better than my old one," Athos announces before resting his head back onto Porthos' chest.

The large musketeer chuckles and untwines his fingers to run his hand over Athos' bare chest. He huffs a small laugh before placing his hand overtop of Porthos'.

Athos stares up at the ceiling, smiling with content with where he is in his relationship with Porthos. As someone who has a stubbornly sealed heart, Porthos has been the only one capable of opening it up again. A cold heart that had been locked up for so long, hoping it would remain that way forever as he never wanted to experience the pain Milady inflicted on him ever again. Since then, he vowed to avoid getting himself attached romantically to anyone.

But his heart told him that something about Porthos is different; one who is unlike any of the others. Instinctually, he didn't trust his heart, coaxing himself in believing that listening to it will spiral him back down the same path of despair.

As time passed, he finds himself having romantic feelings for Porthos. He desperately pushed it away and suppressed them for the longest time, but it soon escalated to something so far that he could not contain it any longer.

His fear was rejection, knowing that he was not one to be loved in such a way and his behaviour will eventually drive him away. The feelings of love were surprisingly returned and Athos was left nonplussed. Porthos was devoted to him, never leaving his side and Athos felt a different bond of devotion compared to that with Milady. 

For once, his heart was right. 

"You slept 'ike a toddler when I carried ya back," his brother quips, disturbing his musing.

The comment jolts his memory as to how he was brought out of the tavern. Remembering the revelers laughing and whistling as Porthos held him in a bridal style.

Slowly turning his head up to Porthos like a predator, he glares threateningly at him, silently communicating through his eyes that he is not to utter a single word of the incident.

Porthos huffs a laugh and ruffles his hair into an even more disheveled state. Athos' fixed glare is not averted as the addition of his usual raised brow sends another message, warning him another outbreak like this will not go unpunished. The large musketeer nods with understanding as a promising smile crosses his face. 

"That incessant shaking and tapping was really annoying earlier."

"Well, if you coopera'ed I wouldn't 'ave to do 'hat," he responds in a smirky tone.

Athos persists with his stare in an attempt to give him a taste of his own medicine, but the longer he looks at Porthos' amused face, the quicker his expression morphs into a more relaxed look and his lips soon curl into a gentle smile.


End file.
